Dark Home
by Sundowhn
Summary: This is a story about Mystique (Raven Darkhölme) and her oldest son, Nightcrawler (Kurt Wagner). Circumstances as well as very different natures have collectively prevented Raven and Kurt from ever having anything but the most ambiguous of bonds between mother and son, but what happens if it turns out they actually need one another on some level?


**_Disclaimer_**

_Characters are the property of Marvel, and I make nothing from this. _

_Thanks Sungila, for the idea of the continuation of the story!_

* * *

**_Chapter One_**

_Prologue_

_Then_

A shivering woman crouched, hiding amidst low, scrubby evergreen trees. She listened intently for her pursuers. The cold November night was filled with only soft forest sounds. They hadn't found her yet, but they would, and when they did...Her heart fluttered wildly with fear and her breath came in sharp wrenching gasps that puffed whitely. She shifted cramped legs and another wave of dizziness threatened. Breathing deeply, she willed the accompanying nausea to pass. Blood seeped from between her thighs and cramps pulsed in her abdomen. How much blood had she lost? The birth had been nightmarish, her labor going on for a full two days. She could still remember the sound of her own screams echoing off the high, sculpted ceiling of the bedroom. She adjusted the warm burden in her arms and closed her eyes momentarily. How had she ended up in this mess?

All she'd wanted was a chance at life, a comfortable place in the world where she didn't have to worry. Was that so much to ask? The aging German entrepeneur with his blue-blooded inheritance had been exactly what she needed. It was the perfect set-up. He was trusting and devotedly indulgent to his beautiful young wife. She had the run of his estate as well as finances, and all she had to do was pander to the old man's ego from time to time.

The manor house was a far cry from the slums of Delhi where she'd spent the earliest years of her long, strange life. Dammit, she wasn't the same scavenging little urchin the locals derisively called 'kauwa' – the raven – any longer! It just wasn't fair! This wasn't the best place she'd ever carved out for herself, but it had been the most stable, and she'd been content with the arrangement for the past two years. Then she had to go and get pregnant. Damn it all to Hell and damn Christian's smooth-talking friend who'd gotten her in that state! That miserable bastard had laughed when she told him her condition – _laughed! _Oh, if she could only get her hands on him now...

Raven gritted her teeth and tried to find some untapped resevoir of strength. If the child had just been born normal, things might have been all right, at least for a bit longer, until she was ready to move on once again. In that respect, though, her luck had run out. The infant was born looking a great deal like her, or at least the way she looked when she was a child, before she developed the ability to shift her appearance to whatever she chose. Either from pain or shock at seeing what she'd birthed, her concentration had slipped, and everyone in the room had seen her for what she was. Her once loving husband had lashed out at her in horror. In her weakened state, she'd been no match for his strength, but the switchblade she kept concealed in her nightstand was the equalizer. The added fear and confusion of Christian's death bought her the time she needed to make an escape.

She looked down at the bundle in her arms, wrapped in an embroidered, blood-stained blanket, it's face covered. Why had she picked it up when she fled? She really had no idea. What was she going to do with a baby, especially one that looked like this? As soon as her strength was back, she could hide again, start over and make a new life, but not with this strange looking infant in tow. She'd never even gotten much of a look at the child, only saw that it had her dark blue coloring. The doctor had dropped it in shock, though it landed safely enough on the bed, and raised a healthy cry of protest at its mistreatment. Something in her had responded to that helpless sound, and she'd found herself unable to leave it behind.

It was awfully quiet. If she hadn't felt the steady rise and fall of its breathing, she'd swear the child was dead. Biting her lip in consternation – she'd probably regret this – Raven lifted the corner of the blanket and peered at this little being who'd caused her such trouble.

Bright golden eyes fixed on her and she released a tiny, involuntary gasp of surprise. Was _this_ what it was like when people looked into her eyes? It was disconcerting, to say the least. She couldn't be sure if it was a trick of the night or the faint iridescent glow of those strange eyes, but the baby just seemed so...so _aware_, like it was contemplating her with a similar intensity as her own. It pursed its lips and made a faint smacking noise before a tiny two-fingered hand reached up from the folds of the blanket towards her face. Raven was over-whelmed by some emotion she couldn't quite name. She brushed the little arm with her free hand and had her next surprise – the child felt like it was covered with fine fur. Well it certainly hadn't gotten that from _her_. Still, it was kind of nice, with a texture not unlike soft velvet. Those tiny fingers closed on her finger and the baby yawned, perfectly content in her arms. She was so mesmerized by this being she'd created that she temporarily forgot both her pain and her predicament.

Her curiosity was whetted now, and she unwrapped it further, careful to shield it from the cold as much as possible with her body. Its feet were shaped similarly to its hands, but where the heel should be was what looked like a bird's talon, for lack of a better description. The mute evidence of its sex was there – it _would _be a boy – and, most surprising of all, a tiny tail curled around her wrist, holding onto her tightly. He made soft sounds of protest in response to the cold, and Raven quickly bundled him back up. He nuzzled and rooted against her, clearly looking to be fed. What the hell was she doing? Why was she even looking at this baby she couldn't possibly keep if she wanted to survive? His soft mewling grew louder with frustrated hunger, and she offered her breast to quiet him.

There was something infinitely comforting in the rhythmic pull of the nursing child. _Kurt._ That was the name she'd chosen if the baby were a boy. _He can at least have a name for however long he's alive_. That was her final thought before she dozed off. She awoke with a start, unsure of how much time had passed. The baby slept now in her arms, one fist clenched in the red hair that fell over her shoulder. This time, she clearly heard the sound that had awakened her. The villagers were near, and they had hounds. The baying of the beasts echoed eerily through the woods.

Unsteadily, she rose to her feet, clutching the baby to her chest. She pushed deeper into the dense foliage of the forest, making her way to the small river inlet she remembered was nearby. Maybe if she got in the water, the dogs wouldn't pick up the scent of blood. Surprisingly, the baby made no murmur, though he was awake now, bouncing in the crook of her arm as she ran.

Raven gasped as the icy water closed over her ankles. God, it was freezing! The mob was closing on her rapidly. She was no match for their speed in her weakened state. She splashed along as quickly as she could manage, stumbling and falling to her knees once before laborously rising again. What could she do to throw them off? She looked down at her child. . If she left him now, the dogs would find him first and give her a chance to escape. She could have other children. Raven chewed her lip, moving towards shore. Blood-thirsty baying filled the pre-dawn air. Her mistake had been to look at the baby again before she acted. He peered up at her, a miniture reflection of herself. "Stop looking at me like that!" She snarled under her breath.

She splashed back into the water, trying to make it across to the other side before she was spotted. The sky was lightening rapidly with the coming sunrise. Perhaps it was her last.

She slogged forward, the current swift and reaching mid-thigh now. It threatened to pull her down with every step. What the hell was she trying to accomplish? Finally, she reached the shallows again and stumbled onto shore, falling to her knees. She was in a reed bed, the high stalks rattling in the wind. What could she do? They'd both be torn apart if they were caught. Making up her mind, she concealed her newborn in the reeds and rose to her feet. Maybe she could distract the hunters and throw them off her trail.

Casting a final look back at the baby, she stepped back into the water, heading away from him. She moved faster, now that she didn't have the additional weight in her arms, though still much slower than she'd like. A fiery dawn lit the sky, painting the clouds a hellish orange. She could see the silhouette of the massed villagers now, their dogs leading the way. Using her remaining strength, she finished the crossing and shifted her form. Now she looked no different than any of them. In gutteral German she shouted out to them, "This way! The witch and her devil spawn ran this way!" She pointed north, the opposite direction from where she'd secreted her son. The fools bought it, and it took all of her concentration to retain the ruse form until they'd passed, beating their dogs into submission in the excitement of the pursuit. The dogs had known. They always knew.

Raven gave a sigh of relief and allowed herself to sit by the side of the river and rest for a moment. Now all she had to do was make her way to the next town of size. She could blend in and regain her strength. She had money tucked away in several secret accounts, so that wasn't a problem. She was sick of Germany anyway. Maybe she'd go some place warmer this time. Greece was lovely this time of year, or perhaps she'd head back to America. She had some good years there. She smiled at the thought. She could look up Irene again.

Against her will, a vision of bright, trusting golden eyes filled her mind's eye. Son-of-a-bitch, no! She was _not_ going to throw her life away on that unwanted bastard baby! Her mind made up, she started walking in an eastbound direction, towards Stuttgart. But her thoughts were unrelenting as they played over what would happen to the infant. He was wrapped warmly, so he might not die of exposure for a few hours yet. He'd been fed, so hunger wouldn't be what killed him. Animals. That was the most likely thing. The deep Bavarian forests were full of them, and a newborn would be far too tempting to pass up, especially covered in the smell of fresh blood.

Her steps got slower and slower, and before she realized it, she was headed south again, following the river. Maybe he was already gone and all she'd find was the tattered remains of his blanket. Raven shook her head to dismiss the image. She didn't know what she hoped for at this point. If he still lived, perhaps she could at least make his death merciful. A quick cut of the little knife, still sticky with Christian's blood, would be better than being eaten alive. Bile rose in her throat. No, not that. The river then. As icy as it was, that would be fast.

What kind of a monster was she? She shivered with a chill not born from the cool temperature.

Raven was very near where she'd left him, she was sure of it. She could hear a soft, giggling childlike voice, and stepped into the shadows of the forest to move closer. Who was there? She palmed the knife.

A small dark-haired boy, dressed in gypsy rags, was holding her son, cuddling him as if the baby didn't look like a blue demon. His dialect sounded Sinti when he called downstream, "Mutti, come and see what I've found by the river!"

In the distance, Raven heard a woman reply, "Stefan, where are you? I _told_ you not to wander off! You're supposed to be watching Jimaine!"

The little boy scowled, but didn't give up his prize. Grunting, he stood, clutching her tiny son in his arms. Raven must have made some small sound, because just then, the boy turned and caught sight of her. His black eyes widened. "Frau, is it...is this baby yours?" He stammered.

"His name is Kurt." She whispered, holding the child's fearful gaze a moment longer before stepping back into the forest as his mother crested the horizen, a toddler in hand.

"Wait!" The boy called after her, "You mean you don't want him? Frau?"

Raven didn't look back, and the child's voice was caught and carried away by the cold morning breeze.


End file.
